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Thursday, September 16, 2010

Mr Big is only good as a late 80s band

I am still off work recuperating and living off my FMLA and disability for a couple more weeks till I am ready mentally and physically to jump back on that hamster wheel that is my day job. This means my free time runneth over. Because of this, I pretty much sit on facebook, play online scrabble, try to gain back the few pounds I lost by inhaling food, and watch movies all the livelong day. Due to my sloth, it makes me very happy that HBO has obtained a whole new crop of movies during my 5 week absense to keep me in my new hermit lifestyle. [Tangent: For some reason, my penny-pinching family has every HBO, Showtime, Encore and Skinamax known to man. I am not complaining. Trust that I love and take full advantage of it, but my father only watches MSNBC, CBS and The Western Channel...so he really is overpaying.]

This morning, nothing was really on, so I opted to give something that I loathe a second chance. I am about to make a statement that I know many will disagree with: I don't like the Sex and the City Wheww....there I said it. That was so hard, I almost feel as if I need a chaser. Every girl I know thinks I am an elitist [Tangent: Clearly I am not, You've Got Mail and Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead are among my favorite films.] and/or emotionally stunted due to my feelings toward this movie, especially since I like [notice I said "like" and didn't say "am obsessed with"] the television show as well as its PG rated cousin in syndication. Even my best friend, who isn't generally a girly-girl, loves the movie and doesn't understand why I don't. Many of my friends sported heels and went to go see it in groups, all gussied up, I just had no interest. It seems like something that should appeal to me: I like perverted conversation. I like fashion. I write a blog. I want an Asian baby and a Jewish husband. Seems like a big pile of WIN.

Maybe I had been too hasty in my initial assessment of terrible...it needed a second viewing with fresh eyes. My new review: Slightly less terrible, but still not what I would call enjoyable. And this time I watched it from beginning to end and not in segments over time. [Tangent: Segments were necessary. This movie is long...I mean really really ungodly long. I thought it was almost over so I clicked the guide button to see what was coming on next. Only 54 minutes had transpired. To me, a movie should be epic to deserve a time frame of 2.5 hours. This was no Saving Private Ryan.]

Part of my problem is I have grown to hate all the characters. Miranda is a cold bitch. Samantha is a turbo slut. Charlotte is a moron. When I used to play the old "which Sex and the City characters would we be game?" [Tangent: Every girl my age did in college, If you didn't you are lying to yourself.] I always saw myself as the Carrie. Despite her affinity for deliberate visible bra strap, I've always enjoyed her. She seems like she has more than one dimension.

Because I have always kept Carrie on a bit of a pedestal, I hate this movie. Or wait- that's not fair, because I think Big is a douche and Carrie is a douchette for loving him, I hate this movie.

WARNING: Prepare yourself...I am about to do something I do quite frequently. I am about to pretend that fictional characters are real and get on my soapbox about it.

Big, nee John James Preston, is a tool. He even has a horrible nickname with semi perverted connotations, as if he was a frat boy or a Jersey Shore housemate. [Although I think The Situation is actually a more clever name.] True he has money, so much so that he can afford to call off a obviously expensive New York wedding. That might appeal to some demos...just not this one.

If I was the moron, the cold bitch or the turbo slut- I would not have embraced him so warmly at the film's ending. WHY? Despite his via email apologies and plagiarizing of famous love poems to Carrie- what had he really done to win them all over? Had the film already exceeded the allotted 2.5 hours, and the producers had no time to tie up all these loose ends? I probably could have done without a 10th "trying on clothes montage," if someone would give me 4 minutes of us explanation on that matter.

If I were her friend, I would have said, "Carrie, remember that charming wood worker you used to date, maybe he is the more stable choice." Or maybe a sexy voice, the ability to craft things with one's hands and a baseball and beer kinda attitude are not things that appeal to someone I thought I was akin to. In that case- more Aiden for me. We'll always have United State of Tara.